


Walking On Broken Glass

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 18:37:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11880429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: Mulder rushed to the door and saw her walking down the stairs, her hair wrapped up in a towel.





	Walking On Broken Glass

**Author's Note:**

> I took "A Typical Day At The Unremarkable House" and wrote an ending to it. So this might sound familiar at the beginning. Sorry.

6am  
She left leaving her half finished cup of coffee on the counter. He half stirred when she turned on the engine, but fell back asleep almost immediately.

10am  
He stumbled out of bed. Without bothering to shave or dress, he took the last clean mug from the cupboard, the blue chipped FBI souvenir he lifted from the kitchenette in the bullpen when they moved back to the office downstairs. He read the message boards, zins, wasted time on NY Times and Post, went back to message boards to check if he got any replies to what he wrote, opened new bag of seeds, ate the last bagel, no cream cheese.

2pm  
His contacts in the west coast MUFON chapters started chirping about a wave of sightings and for the next 3 hours he gathered 7 conflicting reports and knew exactly as much as when he started. 

6pm  
His stomach rumbled, he made more coffee. Watched the game, Knicks lost.

8pm  
Scully came home. He heard her through the closed doors to his de… office. A low curse, the fridge door slammed. It was his turn to go shopping and make dinner. The dishes chimed in the sink like stones against concrete. Her heels pounded the hardwood floor, a funeral drum.  
“Hi Doc,” he tried a faint smile, realizing he’s still in PJ’s.  
“What was it today? Fluke man in the White House toilet? Real Vampires on Broadway? Tell me, what was so important that you couldn’t do a single thing around here, even if it would mean saving your life.”  
He lowered his gaze, ashamed. He failed her again. Broke his promise. Again. He couldn't add a lie to that.  
“UFO’s over west coast.”  
“Right, maybe you should call them to bring some takeout for dinner on their way back.”  
She slammed the door behind her. A framed picture of the two of them, leaning together over a file folder in FBI jackets, slid to the floor. Glass shattered.

 

Half an hour later the doorbell rang. Mulder rushed to the door and saw her walking down the stairs, hair wrapped in a towel. He had time to do the dishes while she took her bath.  
“Keep the change.” Mulder shut the door quickly so she wouldn’t catch a cold on top of everything else.  
Testing her mood, he tried a small smile, “let’s eat.” She didn’t say anything, didn’t smile, but took her place at the kitchen table. The glasses were already filled and she took a small sip as he unpacked the cartons of lo mien, fried rice and sweat and sour pork. He didn’t order every one of her favorites, because she’d see right through him, but he tried.  
They ate in silence.  
“Why do you do this Mulder?” She asked quietly. It wasn’t cold, but it didn’t warm him up either. “Why do you keep hiding, you don’t have to anymore.”  
“I’m not hiding,” he wasn’t, he just, “I lost track of time.”  
“Three days in a row?”  
He shrugged. He didn’t have any excuses for that. He did lose track of time, often. Letting the days drift by, floating around in his mind without paying much attention to the outside world, it became a habit.  
“You wanna come with me?" He didn’t look up but there was a sign of life in his voice. Interest. "Shopping, I mean.”   
“Are you five?” She said it of hand, but something inside him snapped.  
He got angry, that one was bellow the belt “NO, I want us to do something together, now that I don’t have to hide anymore.” He was going full throttle, “I barely see you, you work for days on end, come home too tired to so much as take off your shoes and fall into bed like a log. We barely talk, and if we talk, we usually fight. And you might think that being alone is easier, but it’s not!”  
“I’m a doctor! What did you expect?” She shot back.  
“I don’t know, a weekend maybe, a breakfast together, a kiss goodbye, I want my wife not a roommate!”  
“We’re not married.” Her cold tone, was worse than shouting.  
“Right." Mulder got up and set his plate in the sink without breaking it somehow. “Leave the dishes, I’ll do them when I get back,” he said, forcing himself to keep calm and the boiling anger inside him to stop.  
“Where are you going?” She got up and followed him to the office, anxious now.  
“Shopping,” his voice was quiet, almost soft.  
“Don’t, Mulder, don’t do this just to spite me," she tried reason, her weapon of choice, "let’s talk about this.”  
He picked up the frame from the desk and turned, showing her the broken glass. “I have to replace this.”   
The was calm now, the heat of her anger gave him strength to confront her about the distance that snuck up between them, and that moment of honesty made him feel like his old self again.  
“When did this happen?” She looked horrified at the jagged edges, sharp teeth of glass.  
“Just now, it fell down when you slammed the door,” it wasn’t an accusation, just a fact. Anger started to evaporate from her as well. She wasn't superstitious, but the shattered glass, it broke her.  
“I did this?”   
He held on to this picture over the years. It traveled with him when he was on the run, and he treasured it as a link to who they once were and how it all began. There was softness in them in this frozen moment, despite the fact that they stood in the middle of a crime scene. It was always them against the world, not this world between them.  
She tried to remove the shards to take the photo out, but he stopped her. Taking her hand he brought it to his lips kissing her knuckles softly. “Don’t, you’ll cut yourself.”  
“I’ll come with you,” she said looking up and squeezing his hand. There was something in her eyes, almost desperate.  
“Scully, you don’t have to, I’m not five,” he threw her words back at her but did it with a smile, “and your hair is wet, and you’re not dressed enough.”  
“It’s 10pm so you’re going to Walmart, who cares what I wear to Walmart at 10pm.”  
“I do,” he chuckled and planted his first sweet kiss on her forehead in ages, “and besides, alone it’ll go so much faster.”  
She pulled her hand from his grip and huffed out half a laugh, slapping his chest.  
“Stay home and hold on to this,” he said placing the frame back in her hands, the photo of the two of them, still intact. “I’ll be back in two hours, watch a movie, relax, and I’ll bring ice cream, okay?”  
“Okay,” she nodded, immediately reaching for the glass again.  
“And band-aids,” he added, pocketing his car keys. Scully smiled, warmly this time.  
She waited by the door as he tied his shoes kneeling before her. He almost forgot how wonderful her legs looked from this perspective and how powerful she seemed when she towered over him, like she always did through all these years.  
“Wake me if I fall asleep,” she said as he stood up, his eyes following every inch of her body.  
He leaned down and whispered against her lips, “Dream of me if you do.”  
“I’ll email you the shopping list,” he felt her lips curve upwards.  
“That would be great, thanks," he said and got his goodbye kiss.


End file.
